


pas de trois

by upriserseven



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: April Centric, Ballet School AU, F/F, Gen, april blair friendship maybe the most important thing in the world to me who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upriserseven/pseuds/upriserseven
Summary: The Wesley twins are even more annoying and distracting here than they are everywhere else, so April is frustrated when she notes that they’re both competent dancers. She could even be convinced to say that the brunette one is good.(or, the April-centric ballet fic that absolutely nobody asked for)
Relationships: April Stevens & Blair Wesley, April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I cannot write TBH fic unless it's April-centric, a heavy exploration of the April + Blair friendship, with a dash of Sterling. There is more Sterling/actual Stepril in chapters 2 and 3, I promise. 
> 
> Shout out to whoever decided we would, for 0.0003 seconds, see a pointe trophy in April's room. You broke my brain.

On the first day, there’s around fifteen new students. April doesn’t imagine most of them will last until the end of the month, so the year doesn’t look promising. This is the beginning of her fourth year, and even the beginner ballet classes she took aged seven were too much for some of the other children, and she knows that the older you start classes, the harder it can be to really gain the necessary discipline. It’s much like learning a language, she thinks. (April’s covered there, too. She bought herself French and Spanish dictionaries with the money that her grandparents gave her for Christmas, so she’ll be ahead of her classmates.) 

Most of the fifteen seem useless, she thinks. There’s a dark haired boy she recognizes from school who might not be entirely awful, if he would maybe learn to straighten his back a little. April actually hopes he can. There aren’t many boys in the class at the moment, probably because the parents take issue with enrolling their sons in ballet, and it would be useful to have more. 

The Wesley twins are even more annoying and distracting here than they are everywhere else, so April is frustrated when she notes that they’re both competent dancers. She could even be convinced to say that the brunette one is good. Good enough, anyway. If they have the motivation and willpower that April assumes everyone else here lacks, they might be worthy additions. 

Predictably, only ten of the new recruits show the following week, and then seven the week after. She thought it would take longer to weed out the weak, but the sooner the better. The dark haired boy is still there, the only one of the boys remaining, and so are the twins. It’s still clear to April that Blair is a better dancer than her sister, but Sterling is fine enough. 

They’re still annoying, and distracting, and so wrapped up in themselves that April wants to hate them, but there’s something… appealing about Sterling outside of school. She thinks maybe they could be friends, if it wasn’t for Blair’s constant presence.

On the fifth week, April forgets the banana she usually eats during their fifteen minute break, and it’s inconvenient but she can make it through one session without it, she’s sure. She drinks some water, and she’s practicing some breathing exercises she saw online to pass the time, when there’s a tap on her shoulder. 

“Hi! I saw you didn’t have a snack today, so I broke my orange in half, if you want… um, well, half?” April’s never really spoken to Sterling, and the first thing she notices is that the girl seems nervous. She’s blinking much more than necessary, and not really making any eye contact with April, and it takes a moment for April to respond, but she does cautiously accept the half-orange Sterling is thrusting in her direction. 

“Thank… you? Thank you.”

“I’m Sterling, by the way. Just ‘cause… we’ve never actually really spoken. You’re April.” 

April nods at her. The other kids don’t really talk to April much, not even the ones she also goes to school with. They interact when they need to, during warm-ups and movement sessions, but she hasn’t made friends during the classes like her mother hoped she would. (Like April herself hoped she might.)

“Did you want to come and sit with us? Me and Blair? I know break is almost over but then if you like us you could sit with us next week, too!”

She does. She doesn’t mind not having friends, but she thinks she’s not really in a position to turn them down. Plus, maybe it would nice? Sterling seems polite, and April thinks her mother would be pleased if she made a new friend. 

——————  


Four months pass, and the twins, the dark-haired boy (his name is Jennings, Blair tells April. April isn’t sure if that’s his first name or his surname, but she knows by now that interrupting Blair actually makes her talk for longer) and one other girl remain of the initial fifteen. It’s fewer than the last few years, but it still rounds their class out at a good size. 

Two months in, they split into three groups, according to their skill level. April knows, of course, that she’ll be in the most advanced group for her age. She’s already done this for three years, and she’s both a perfectionist and a wonderful rule-follower, so she’s able to follow steps and choreography to a tee. She wasn’t necessarily expecting Blair to also be in her group so soon, but she reluctantly accepts it because okay, yes, Blair has a natural talent that she hasn’t seen from anybody else in the group.

April also isn’t expecting the sadness she feels when Sterling is in the middle group, but they’re friends now, so Sterling beams with pride and happiness for not only Blair, but April, when the groups are announced. They still sit together in their breaks, and they’re even starting to spend time together at school now, too. 

Maybe this is going to be a good year after all. 

——————  


In fact, maybe it’s going to be the best year yet. Soon enough, April feels incredible about practically every element of her life. She’s already got a good part in their end of year production, and the tutors have suggested she’ll be ready for pointe when they come back next semester. Plus, she has Sterling (and Blair, kind of) now, and it’s great. Sterling is so supportive, and she’s the best friend April has ever had. 

April struggles with friends, sometimes. She has trouble making them and then she definitely has trouble keeping them. The incident with her friend Adele in second grade was the first time April realised that she could be… intense. That was three years ago, and even though April has tried to keep that part of her under control since then, she still worries that she’s going to scare friends away. That she’s going to be a little bit too much for some people. 

Something about her friendship with Sterling has made that melt away, though, and it’s freeing. April is still, without fail, the tensest ten year old in the world, but she’s slightly more at ease when she’s with Sterl. They spend so much time together now, between school and dance classes, and with sleepovers basically every weekend. It’s still a lot for April to comprehend, but Sterling seems to want to spend as much time together as April does, and it’s fun and exciting and sometimes April’s face hurts from smiling so much, which is something she’s never known before. 

Sterling has seen April when she’s focused, seen her when she’s trying her hardest not to correct an idiot in their class, she’s listened to April talk about the things she’s most passionate about, no matter how obscure or trivial, and it hasn’t phased her. They even teamed up and delivered a truly inspiring speech to Mrs Willis about Taylor Swift a few weeks ago. Sterling has stayed up with her until the early hours of the morning, when Blair has long since fallen asleep, and talked about how lucky she feels to have April as her friend. 

She’s intense, but Sterling doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe Sterling even likes it, is as intense as April is. 

——————  


The next semester starts, but April and Sterling are no longer friends. Jennings isn’t in the class anymore, and now that April isn’t spending time with Blair outside of ballet, she can’t even ask what happened to him. She’s not friends with Jennings himself, although he was an excellent partner, so she knows it would be odd if she was the one to ask him. 

He doesn’t ever acknowledge April at school, acts like he doesn’t even know her, and she’s not sure why it hurts, but it does. 

April’s mother seems disappointed when April says she won’t be spending time with the Wesleys anymore, but her daddy simply mumbles something about Sterling and Blair’s dad that April thinks was possibly unkind, even though she didn’t fully understand it. He’s never seemed to like Mr Wesley, although April had always thought he seemed nice. 

It’s for the best, if April is honest with herself. Sterling was a distraction she couldn’t afford. Her performance in their last recital of the year, a few weeks after Sterling had ended their friendship, had been sloppy. Sterling was too relaxed, had made April relax, and April needs friends as serious as her. 

Blair has pointe shoes now, like April. Sterling doesn’t. Frankly, she hasn’t even improved much since last year and April thinks she’d be better off finding a new extra-curricular. Blair’s joined the school’s lacrosse team, and April’s reluctant to admit it, but she’s impressed by that. April herself has at least one activity most days, but she didn’t expect Blair to have the discipline for two. 

It’s a little tricky with Blair, at first. They’re constantly told that they’re the best dancers in their group, and they’re paired together more often than not. April is angry at Blair, which perhaps isn’t entirely fair, seeing as Sterling was the one who broke her heart, but Blair also seems to be angry with April? Which, truly, is equal parts hilarious and enraging. It takes a few weeks before they remember that so much of what they do here is based on trust and teamwork, so they reach a silent truce inside the confines of the studio. Who they are in here has no bearing on who they are out there, and vice versa. April will not risk an injury because Blair Wesley is inexplicably angry with her. 

It’s still a few weeks after that, when April finally loses the urge to ask Blair _why_ Sterling had done what she did. What exactly had April done wrong? But one day, Luke is already sitting in the Wesley’s car when they pick the twins up, and something in her shifts. Sterling started dating Luke Creswell a month or so before the end of her friendship with April, but it was based entirely on some asinine ‘most popular’ title they’d both won, and April wasn’t sure Sterling even _liked_ Luke, not really. He’s sweet, maybe, but he’s not very smart and maybe if that’s the kind of person Sterling would rather be around, April was never the problem in their friendship. 

She tries not to think about it after that, determined that Sterling will not become another Adele. 

The next week, just when they’re all packing their things away ready for their parents to pick them up, Blair walks right up to April. And they don’t do this any more, they don’t talk before or after class, or even in the break, so April feels herself freeze when Blair approaches. 

“You were really good today, Stevens. Even better than usual. Like, different? I don’t know why but yeah, just wanted to say.”

“Thank you?” 

“Yeah. See you next week?” 

It’s ridiculous, because they’ll see each other tomorrow at school. Still.

“Sure. Next week.”

——————  


She can feel Sterling’s eyes on them, whenever they’re talking or sometimes even when they’re rehearsing together. (Maybe if Sterling focused more on her own performance, she’d be doing better by now.) She knows Sterling is watching them, but what she doesn’t know is why. It’s infuriating. The way Sterling watches them, with sadness or envy or anger or whatever it is on her face, like she doesn’t spend every other waking moment with Blair glued to her side. 

She’s not _friends_ with Blair, if that’s what Sterling is mad about. Their relationship is nothing more than necessity. Maybe they occasionally joke around, or they laugh at something, but would Sterling rather they just danced in total misery? Truthfully, they only really tolerated each other before because they both loved Sterling, and now it’s because they both love ballet. If Sterling has a problem with that, she’s an even worse person than April thought. 

Yes, Sterling needs to focus more on her own performance if she wants to improve. But if Sterling is going to insist on spending her energy paying attention to April and Blair instead, April is going to make sure she puts on a great show. 

The Bible tells her to put away all malice, but at thirteen, April thinks that she can make a tiny exception. Sterling started it, after all. 

——————  


The auditions for recitals are more intense now than they used to be, more involved. They’re, well, they’re actual auditions and not just observations during class. April is putting more time now into rehearsals. Next year, she and Blair will both be eligible for parts in a show, rather than simply being in the mixed showcase. They need to really shine this time around. 

April’s not sure exactly when it happened, but she and Blair are _April-and-Blair_ now, as far as dance is concerned. April knows she needs to look out for number one, and ultimately, when it comes down to auditioning, they’re separate entities and she’s much more interested in her own success than she is Blair’s, but April can’t help but think that Blair is necessary to achieve that success. 

It’s the same as it ever was, stays the same throughout the years of classes. Blair dances like she does everything else in life: with reckless abandon. She’s passionate, and free-flowing, and uses dance as an outlet. Her performances move people. April doesn’t have that, but she’s more technical and precise than Blair could be with forty years of training, never mind four, so she has an edge. It’s the reason they continue to choose each other as partners, even after their tutors have stopped forcing it on them. It’s cheesy, probably, but Blair dances with her heart, and April with her brain. They need each other, whether they like it or not. Blair forces April to loosen up a little, helps her become ‘less robotic’ (“no offence, Stevens, but also some offence, y’know?”) while April teaches Blair a few breathing exercises, helps her with her posture. They’ve come to rely on the benefits of their being polar opposites.

They’re at the barre one day, a little after class has actually finished, while Sterling sits over in the corner playing on her phone. April is helping Blair straighten out her leg, hand hovering over Blair’s hip, when Sterling finally gets up and storms out of the room. She yells something over her shoulder about waiting out in the front, and Blair just shoots April an apologetic smile and mumbles something about needing to leave now. Resisting the eye roll that bubbles inside her, April simply nods. 

“Good class today. We’re both doing well, I think.” 

“We really are. I don’t tell you this enough but you’re really, really good at this Stevens.”

“Thanks. So are you.” 

They’re silent while they pack up their things and get ready to leave, and they’re almost out of the door when Blair turns back at April and says it, with something that sounds like sadness in her voice.

“Happy birthday, April.”

It’s been a long time since she shed a tear over the Wesley twins, but she lets it happen that day, and vows it’ll be the last time either of them gets under her skin. 

——————  


When her daddy asks her how she feels about the auditions, April plasters on her best fake smile and tells him she’s going to get the best part there is. She doesn’t feel it, really. 

She’s been taking classes for seven years, and Blair has only been there for four, but April really thinks that maybe Blair deserves this more than she does. 

Daddy tells her to go in and do her best, and knock ‘em dead. 

She doesn’t get the best part. But neither does Blair. She has another year before she has to worry about it. 

——————  


It was inevitable, probably, that April and Blair’s falling out would be more explosive than April and Sterling’s. They’re fundamentally different people, when it comes down to it, and maybe she always knew that a friendship that existed only for a few hours, once or twice a week, wasn’t really sustainable. 

Not to mention that they’re never even really arguing about what they claim to be arguing about anymore. April thought it was just her, at first, holding on to their weird, tumultuous past when they are, in theory, arguing about choreography. But then one day, after April had beaten Sterling in an essay writing competition, Blair was snappy with her for the whole session, and April remembered that the twins could never really be considered separate entities. 

So when their already delicate relationship is smashed to pieces, it’s about so much more than auditions and skills and who gets what part. It’s about the way Sterling seems to be determined to paint April as the bad guy, and it’s about the way April’s heart is still a little bit broken, even now. Maybe it’s about the way Blair finds herself caught between the two of them, although that doesn’t really occur to April until after the fact. 

All she knows is that when April and Blair finally have the fight that has probably been brewing for years, she’s unexpectedly devastated, actually. She still might not go so far as to say she likes Blair, but she respects her. Blair Wesley is one of the most annoying people April Stevens has ever met, and every other dancer she pairs up with pales in comparison. 

——————  


Now that they’re older, they’ve moved from Thursday classes to Tuesdays, and it means that April has to drop two of her other activities. She’s fine with it, actually, it helps quell some of her anxieties about burning out at fourteen, but she pretends to be disappointed about quitting horseback riding and krav maga, and decides to just spend a few extra hours at the gym per week instead. 

Blair keeps playing lacrosse, and some days April is mad at how good she is. April has won trophies in every extra-curricular she’s ever participated in. She’s been first place so many times, in so many things, but there’s something about the way Blair (and Sterling actually, although April is decidedly not thinking about Sterling right now, thank you) just seems to be so naturally great at things. April works so damn hard, every day, to be number one, and she loses her balance whenever one of the Wesleys comes along and manages to be such a close second without even a modicum of effort. 

Sterling doesn’t come back to class. April is honestly, genuinely, for the first ever Not Lying To Herself About Sterling Wesley, absolutely overjoyed. Sterling is frustrating at best, enraging at worst. 

Blair isn’t much easier to deal with, really, but in the few weeks before the fallout, April actually really enjoys their time together in class. 

There’s something lighter about the way Blair interacts with her once Sterling is out of the picture, something that makes April think that maybe they’ve both missed out on a potentially great friendship. Sterling is maybe more April’s intellectual equal, and they have more in common and definitely when they were eleven, it made much more sense for the two of them to be friends. But Blair? Well, maybe Blair started off as more of a sparring partner than a friend, but there are weeks when the most fun April has are those few hours in rehearsal with Blair. 

They’re doing Cinderella this year, and April doesn’t like fairy tales (maybe years of assuming you’ll never get to have true love will do that to you), but she’s excited to be part of one of the bigger productions instead of just the end-of-year recitals the younger classes put on each year. 

She and Blair expect to be part of the company, because they’re new and they’re young and the other dancers in the Tuesday sessions are older and more experienced. April remembers some of them from years ago, still beautiful, somehow even more dignified. They always seemed so untouchable, but April realizes that they were younger then than she is now, and maybe that should be comforting but instead she’s just worried that they were better at twelve than she is at fourteen, and it unnerves her. (She’s also still bothered by the fact that even now, she’s not sure if she’s staring in awe because they’re so good or because… well, if it’s because of the other reasons April might be staring.) 

They’re five weeks in, which is almost twenty hours of April and Blair being something close to friends, when Miss Emily (who is probably no older than twenty-five and is technically their teacher’s assistant, although it feels like maybe she’s putting in all the work, as far as April’s concerned) approaches the two of them at the barre. 

April realises what’s happening a little sooner than Blair does, when Miss Emily tells them that Beth, one of the older girls in the class, has broken her ankle, and when you pair this with the fact that the class size is now smaller than ever, they’re opening up auditions for all parts to all ages this year. 

The shift between them isn’t automatic, surprisingly. They still help each other, still know they need each other to succeed. But April knows they’ve both done the math, and they both know that there’s really only one role available for a younger dancer. They’re sharing the skills they need to beat each other, and they both know it. But it’s comfortable and it’s nice and in those sessions, when they rehearse and they give each other notes, April thinks that maybe her relationship with Blair is the closest thing she’s ever had to honesty. Maybe their reluctant mutual respect, and their push and pull actually always has been. 

Three weeks later, they’re both writing their names on the audition sign-up sheet that is nothing more than a formality, and she knows they mean it when they wish each other luck. Blair goes to high-five April and she’s not sure why, but April shakes her head and pulls her in for a quick hug, instead. It’s horribly out of character, but Blair accepts it and even smiles as they pull apart. 

——————  


When April sits down to assess each dancer in the class, as well as the extended list of available parts in Cinderella, she comes to the conclusion that the part she and Blair will both be considered for is a stepsister. And April knows Blair, knows that even if she’s also figured this out, she’d never do the research. That’s why she sits down and watches every YouTube video she can find of her potential future part being performed. In fact, she spends every evening that week watching videos and rehearsing in the makeshift studio area her father had installed in their home gym. When Tuesday afternoon comes, April feels ready. 

Her friendships at school are different now. Maybe people still don’t like her, but she knows they respect her. Some of them even fear her, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it sometimes. She doesn’t really remember attaching herself to Ezequiel and Hannah B, but she enjoys a part of their little trio. It’s easier, most of the time, to let people make assumptions about the dynamics of the so-called Holy Trinity (a name April still isn’t really sure she’s okay with), because she thinks if people knew how heavily she relies on their friendship, they’d see just how vulnerable April really is. Better to be seen as a despot than as desperate. 

Ezequiel and Hannah B don’t really understand ballet, don’t see the appeal, but they know how much April loves it (they don’t know, not really, about the April-Blair dynamic in the studio, it would just be too hard to explain), so they wish her well and they tell her to text them after the auditions and she’s truly thankful to have them around. 

Blair doesn’t talk to her when they walk in. Not when they’re waiting outside the studio, or when they’re warming up, or even when they stand right next to each other nervously sipping from their water bottles. It’s unnerving, April decides, and she’s about to maybe open her mouth to say something when her name is called from the doorway. Blair just gives her a thumbs up and a small smile, but April barely has time to register it. 

She’s better than ever before in her audition, and she knows it. She’s never been more precise, and yes, humility comes before honour, but April wonders if it can really be considered prideful if you know it to be fact. 

Miss Emily is beaming at her when she’s done, and gives April a thumbs up before she’s dismissed. It’s that moment, that gesture that makes her fully realize that either she or Blair is going to get this part, and no matter what the outcome, things are about to change. And maybe that’s why she’s close to crying when she walks out of the room, or maybe it’s the relief of the audition being over, either way, Blair notices and puts a hand on April’s arm. 

“Oh, no. I’m totally fine. But uh, thank you.”

Blair’s name is called from the room, and April smiles at her in the hope that Blair will take it as the good luck gesture she intends. 

Blair is also crying when it’s her turn to leave the room, but neither of them talks about it this time. April watches as Sterling hugs her in the back of the car, as Mrs Wesley drives away from the studio. 

April’s daddy asks how the auditions were, later that evening (with some not so very subtle prompting from her mother), and all April can remember is the tears streaming down Blair’s face. 

——————  


She never does find out what happened in Blair’s audition, but when the cast sheet is pinned up on the wall, it marks the official end of their near-friendship. Nobody congratulates April besides Miss Emily. The older girls seem to find her presence more annoying than anything else, and she doesn’t speak to anybody in her own age group except for… well, she doesn’t speak to anybody in her own age group anymore. Her parents expect this of her, so success no longer warrants pride, and her school friends don’t really understand, although they at least seem excited to finally see her perform. 

She remembers the way Sterling was so happy for her when she moved up a group all those years ago. How Sterling, still not as good a dancer as April (or Blair), was so happy for her friend that she squealed and hugged April so tight it hurt. For a moment, in a way she hasn’t allowed herself for years, she longs for Sterling’s friendship again. She breathes in, deeply, and thinks about Sterling telling her she was the best friend she’d ever had, and she thinks about laughing so hard her stomach ached. 

If they were still friends, if none of this had ever happened, Sterling would’ve hugged her and told her how proud she was and convinced Mrs Wesley they should be allowed to order pizza at their sleepover. 

She knows if she had Sterling, she would have at least one person who would congratulate her. Truthfully, she would probably have two. Four, even, when she stops to consider the kind way the whole family had always embraced her. 

But, April doesn’t have Sterling anymore. She allows herself one night of sadness, listens to 1989 start to finish, and moves on. 

She has a show to prepare for, after all. 

——————  


It doesn’t take Blair long to befriend the rest of the group, and it makes April immediately uncomfortable. Not simply because she’s on the outside, but because this time it just feels different. They haven’t spoken even once in the two weeks since the cast list went up. In fact, they haven’t spoken to each other since the ten minute space between their auditions. And that would be fine, really, if April didn’t get the feeling that Blair had somehow switched from a reluctant sometimes-friend to someone who truly hated her guts, and she couldn’t be certain exactly why. 

Yes, she’d prevailed over Blair, and she’d always known that would mean the end of something, but she hadn’t expected this. She can feel Blair’s eyes burning into the back of her head, can tell that Blair is constantly angry at her. She sees every eye roll and oddly, she sees every time Sterling steers Blair away from her at school. 

She has a feeling that she’s somehow responsible for this herself, in a way that goes beyond Blair just being jealous. She flashes back to years ago, to her urge to ask Sterling what she’d done wrong, and she thinks maybe this is just how the Wesleys operate. Perhaps they never tell you when they want things to be over, they simply walk away. Except, she doesn’t want to accept that a second time. She can’t. 

She tries, with an attempt to look like there was no effort whatsoever, to catch Blair after class one Tuesday. It’s unsurprising yet disappointing when Sterling is outside waiting, making it impossible to get near her. She thinks maybe she should try anyway, but stops short when she hears them talking. 

“I know, Blair. She sucks. But you’re so good, and at least we both know you deserved it.”

“Whatever. She’s a more fitting ugly stepsister.”

April isn’t ugly. She knows that. But it still stings to hear such vitriol from Blair. 

Sterling doesn’t say anything in response but she still stares Blair down for that comment. 

“Maybe not on the outside, but there’s more than one way to be ugly, Sterl. Like, April is so ugly on the inside. I can’t believe we were ever friends with her.” 

Sterling just kind of hums, but it’s enough to make it clear that she agrees. 

Just like that, any guilt she may have felt about beating Blair for the part dissipates. Any mild affection she had for either Wesley, even if it was only nostalgic, is gone. 

It’s not the first time that April vows that she’s done with the twins (and truthfully it won’t be the last), but it’s the most she’s ever hated them. It’s maybe the most she’s ever hated anyone. 

——————  


There’s only been a month of rehearsals when Ezequiel sits her down and tells her she looks tired. Her instinct is to snap back at him, and she only concedes because honestly, she’s too tired to even do that. He makes her promise that she’ll take more breaks over the next six weeks, and reminds her that exhaustion is more likely to hinder her performance than help it. 

She’s not sure who she’s trying to prove herself to. The Wesleys, yes, because she can’t stop hearing Sterling’s voice saying “we both know _you_ deserved it” to Blair, and she absolutely will not allow that to be true. The older dancers, perhaps, who seem to think April is a nuisance, and whose presence they barely tolerate. Herself, maybe? Because what if Sterling was right? What if Blair really did deserve to be cast over her? 

No. April worked for this. She spent weeks getting herself ready for auditions, feet bloodied and body bruised. She earned this. She repeats it, over and over in her head until it almost loses meaning. She earned this. Blood, sweat and tears. She knows she did. She believes it, and that’s what matters. 

She still works for it, and she rehearses and she spends Tuesday evenings and all day Saturday in the studio. She spends at least an hour each day rehearsing at home. But she does take Ezequiel’s words to heart, and she spends her evenings flicking through Netflix instead of the Royal Ballet’s YouTube channel. Her earphones play Kacey Musgraves instead of Prokofiev. She lets herself breathe. She still doesn’t let herself slouch, but that’s more about the importance of good posture than it is about maintaining first position. 

By the time they’re in the final stretch, the two weeks leading up to the show, April feels confident in a way she never has before. 

She remembers that first performance after her friendship with Sterling ended, how she’d been upset and it had had a negative impact on her performance. She’d been heartbroken, completely devastated not just by losing Sterling, but by the way Sterling had turned out to be nothing like the person April had thought she was. This time, she’s older, more in control of her emotions. She’s going to take all the pain from the last few months, maybe even longer, and channel it into giving the best performance of her life. She remembers everything Blair has told her in the last few years, about loosening up and taking the time to feel the music rather than just hear it. She dedicates those evening rehearsals, the ones at home, to (as much as the phrase makes her cringe) dancing from her heart rather than from her head. She doesn’t simply move through the motions, though she knows them inside out. 

She’s totally, completely ready. 

——————  


April’s parents are there to support her, of course, as are Ezequiel and Hannah B. Her friends have both sent her excited good luck texts, and her daddy told her as she left the house that he “knew she’d be fantastic.” She appreciates it, but she doesn’t need it. 

Blair is texting incessantly while they’re all getting ready, and April doesn’t even feel jealous knowing that Sterling is sending hundreds of well wishes her way. 

It’s like flying, as corny as it sounds even in her own mind, and when she’s stretching in the dressing room in the interval, she thinks that maybe this is how dancers are supposed to feel. She’s always known that people were impressed more by her precision than anything else, but tonight is different. She’s tired, but exhilarated, with adrenaline coursing through her in a way it never really has before. 

Miss Emily comes in, to offer a short pep talk before giving their two minute warning, and she hugs April before she leaves. 

April can feel Blair’s eyes on her as they’re waiting to get back on stage. She doesn’t acknowledge it. 

April is incredible. That’s not even just her own opinion, she knows it. Miss Emily congratulates her, even a few of the older dancers reluctantly mumble a few words of praise in her direction.

She walks back out into the foyer of the small theatre that’s been booked out for their production, and Hannah B immediately throws her arms around her, and Ezequiel joins in when he sees April gladly accept. It’s a warm, loving kind of affection that April hasn’t known since she was ten. 

She sees the Wesleys across the room, hugging and celebrating Blair. Her own parents are still hovering behind her friends, neither of them having even really looked in April’s direction yet. 

She knows it’ll come later. Her daddy will probably give her a gift, either when they get home tonight or after their final show in a week. Her mother will brag about April at the club, but never say a word to her daughter. It’s enough for April, now. She’s stopped relying on other people for her self-worth. 

She can’t stop her eyes from drifting back over to the Wesleys though, as she sees them getting ready to leave. Luke is with them, she notes, and for some reason it bothers her that Luke was there to see her personal proudest moment. 

Sterling catches her eye just as April is about to look away, and she smiles. 

She’s angry at herself for it, but that single smile means more to April than any word of praise ever could. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s finally seeing the benefit of using dance as an outlet for all the mess the Wesleys have created in her brain. (The more it straightens out, the more she realizes it isn’t fair to put the onus on them entirely. It is, however, simpler.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Stepril? But less ballet? Maybe one day I'll balance all components of this fic but you'll have to come back for chapter three to find out I guess.

April considers not returning to ballet the next year. Truthfully, as much as she loves it, it’s not something she’s really planning to continue with after high school anyway. Maybe she should end on a high, and spend those ten hours a week on something more productive from now on. 

But there’s a feeling that comes with having delivered a performance like that. The other dancers still don’t like her, but April’s come to realize that they don’t even like each other. Being accepted here is more about begrudging respect, and April has that from them now. 

Even Ezequiel and Hannah, who have little to no interest in ballet, seem to like April more after seeing her perform. It’s nice, and it makes April feel self-confident in a way that she’s not used to. It’s the boost that comes when the people around you believe in you, and she’s not sure she’s ready to give that up. 

So she stays, but she cuts back down to four hours a week. Just Tuesday evenings, and only Saturdays when they’re preparing for a show. It’s not uncommon in their studio, for dancers who aren’t looking to pursue ballet longer-term, but April's mother still makes a comment about her dedication. She has no idea the number of hours that April has kept herself awake at night, worried about being the best at absolutely everything. April works to shake it off, but still justifies her decision to herself over and over. 

She’ll make up that time with new activities, ones that will boost her college applications in a few years. It’s never too early to start drafting those essays. April has been studying SAT Prep Handbooks since she was thirteen, but she knows that intelligence alone won’t get her where she needs to go. 

Ten years of ballet, by the time she’s applying, will show hard work, discipline and dedication. The years worth of horseback riding, krav maga, gymnastics, her short-lived but very successful swimming phase, her impressive skill level in Latin, Spanish and French, her years of church camp and Forensics and Fellowship activities, as well as the new clubs she’s joining this year should be enough to make her stand out. Their current Forensics captain is a senior, and April is already devising her plan to take that role next year.

Ballet, four hours a week, is the sweet spot where April gets to feel good about herself by excelling at an activity she enjoys, and the part of her that’s joining extra-curriculars that are more than just hobbies. She needs ballet to balance it out, she thinks. 

It’s not that she doesn’t want to join Young Republicans, because of course she does. She just sometimes struggles to align the views of her family, her friends, and what she thinks will be her party, with well, with herself. 

April’s known, for long enough now, that she likes girls. A part of her was hoping that maybe she’d realize she also liked boys, but she doesn’t. And April herself is fine with this. God doesn’t make mistakes, and it seems unlikely that April Stevens would be His first. Who is she to question His judgment? If God made her gay, He did it for a reason, and April is surprisingly okay with it. (Sometimes she worries that she’s putting on a show just for herself, that she’ll break down over this one day. She knows that’s not really true, though. She accepted herself a long time ago.) 

She thinks about joining the Straight-Straight Alliance, although maybe she’ll save that for next year. She knows she won’t have to hide herself this way forever, but she’s going to be sure she’s convincing while she passes the time.

April and Blair stay on opposite sides of the room wherever possible. They don’t communicate in school unless completely necessary. These days she’s more likely to be willing to spend time with Sterling than she is Blair. 

She’s finally seeing the benefit of using dance as an outlet for all the mess the Wesleys have created in her brain. (The more it straightens out, the more she realizes it isn’t fair to put the onus on them entirely. It is, however, simpler.) 

——————  


It’s almost easy, surprisingly, to keep the Wesleys as nothing more than background noise for nearly a year. April tells herself she hadn’t realized how much she thought about them, but she knows that’s not strictly true. She still thinks about them, of course, because they’re always there. But she doesn’t prioritize them. 

In fact, until audition time rolls around again, she successfully avoids any interactions with Blair that are more than five words. 

Sterling is a different story. 

They’ve spent years now, not friends but not really enemies. Maybe they rolled their eyes at each other and yes, okay, they were in constant competition, but that seemed more like their natural state than any real aggression. 

Well, no. Not really. April hated Sterling, she can’t deny that. And Sterling clearly wasn’t April’s biggest fan. But whatever fury they felt toward each other stayed largely inside their own minds. April never really felt the need to badmouth the twins ( _maybe_ she made a few snide comments after overhearing Blair say she was ‘ugly on the inside’, but only to Ezequiel and Hannah, never anybody else.) 

The point is, they’ve spent years quietly disliking each other, but this year something is different. 

Every single thing that Sterling does infuriates April. April is hyperaware of her at all times and suddenly, she’s everywhere. They share most of their classes, Sterling is there in Fellowship, and she’s muddling her way through Forensics and she’s in church, she’s at the club. She’s everywhere April looks. Always attached to Blair, or Luke, or both. She is impossible to avoid and April is so tired of it. 

(April decidedly does not think about Sterling in relation to that other thing she keeps thinking about. They’re separate. April is gay, and April also has a borderline-obsessive hatred of Sterling Wesley. She sees no reason there has to be a link between these two truths.) 

——————  


Neither April or Blair gets a big part that year, and for a moment it feels like a relief. She simply doesn’t have the energy to hate, or be hated by, Blair this year.

It also means that April is only required to be in the studio for eight hours a week, which she’s thankful for. She spends every other Saturday night at Hannah’s house now, Ezequiel spending most of the evening almost until bed time. Hannah B’s parents are more relaxed than April’s (or perhaps they just understand that Ezequiel doesn’t need to be included in their general rules about boys), but Ezequiel’s parents are still a problem. They’d never let him sleep over at Hannah’s house, and April hurts for him whenever he has to go home. They’ve never discussed anything, of course, but she knows how deep their kinship runs even if he doesn’t. 

It’s nice, actually, to be able to go to school, go to classes, and spend time with her friends in a way that is unusually low pressure. She knows it’s her last chance for anything resembling a relaxed year. 

Blair is struggling in class, and April tries so hard not to notice it, and then when she does, she tries to take some pleasure in it. But it’s hard, when Blair looks so forlorn. April keeps her head down, simply hoping that Blair’s situation will improve and there will be no need for April to be anywhere near her. 

Which is probably how she jinxes herself, because Blair walks right up to her, back straighter than it’s ever been in all the years April’s known her, and says that Miss Emily has paired them together today. Blair is quiet, and April is old enough to know that there is absolutely nothing good about a quiet Wesley. 

She’s nice, nicer than she would usually be to Blair, but it’s still awkward. Maybe that’s what makes it awkward. Blair seems sad, and she seems angry to be forced together with April. April simply plasters on her brightest, yet least condescending, smile, and works with Blair just like she would’ve before their fall out. It feels wrong, but it’s obvious there’s a slight improvement by the end of the session. She’s sure Blair either wants to nail this choreography to spite April, or is just desperate to be away from her. 

It doesn’t completely work, because they’re still paired up in the next session. And the one after that. 

In fact, they stay paired up for most of the year. It’s not necessarily by choice, though April is sure they could’ve separated by now and nobody would’ve said anything. Every session is colder than before, and unlike the last few years, April doesn’t even feel that base level of professional trust in Blair anymore, thinks that Blair would happily let her fall if it came down to it. She thinks that they’re staying together just to be sure that the other person can’t avoid their respective victories and triumphs. She _wants_ Blair to be the first person to see when she nails a particularly difficult sequence. 

——————  


The end of year show comes and goes, completely unremarkable. Ezequiel and Hannah B come to opening night again, they congratulate her with a warmth that she’s still getting used to. Her father gives her flowers and a necklace that she puts on immediately. 

The Wesleys, and Luke, fawn over Blair. April sees, from the corner of her eye, Mr Wesley pick her up and spin her around while Blair pretends to absolutely hate the attention. 

This year, Sterling doesn’t even look in April’s direction. Like she isn’t even there. April wishes it didn’t make her feel so unimportant. 

——————  


The next year starts off well. They’re older now and April knows that they’re being considered for main parts this year. It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but April’s heard they’re going to be doing Swan Lake, and she point blank refuses to let anybody else be cast as Odette. 

She returns almost to the ferocity of the Cinderella year, like last year didn’t even happen at all. She’s going to have Fellowship, Young Republicans, Forensics, Latin and the Straight-Straight Alliance to think about, but she spends three hours every night in her home studio, and she listens to Tchaikovsky in the new car her daddy bought her for her birthday. 

It’s either going to be her or Blair. She knows it and Blair does, too. There’s only a handful of girls older than them remaining, and none of them are right for this. 

She read, once, that Odette and Odile were traditionally performed by two separate dancers, and for a brief second she wishes the school would make that decision for them. She doesn’t like Blair, but she knows that she’d dance the Black Swan beautifully. They’re already painfully short on dancers, though, and April thinks they’ll perhaps even be bringing in some of the younger students for the extended court, so the probability of them agreeing to add in another role is near zero. 

When April was five, she watched The Swan Princess, and she wanted to be Odette. Of course she knows now that her beloved childhood film is a bastardization of the show she’s preparing to audition for, but she has to admit that it was a big part of the reason she chose ballet when her mother encouraged her to join a new activity after the Adele fiasco. 

She’s ready to beat Blair out for this role. She’s done it before, and there’s absolutely no reason she can’t do it again. 

——————  


Or, there shouldn’t be a reason. But in the weeks leading up to auditions, after the show has been confirmed and sign-up sheets have been filled out, it’s fair to say that April’s life begins to implode. 

It starts with not getting chosen as Fellowship leader. (Retrospectively, April will laugh, maybe humourlessly, at how much of a tragedy this seems to be at the time.) And Ellen doesn’t just not choose April, which would be bad enough, but she chooses Sterling Wesley. April is furious. Sterling Wesley is not leadership material, for goodness’ sake. She hears Ellen say things like “earnestly represents Jesus’s path on this Earth” and cannot imagine a world in which that applies to Sterling. She listens to Sterling fumble her way through some awful speech and silently seethes in a way that is, yes, decidedly un-Christian. 

April always allows herself some leeway when it comes to Sterling, because surely there are times when forgiveness isn’t completely necessary. Or possible. 

She _tries_ to be the bigger person, and then a darn condom wrapper falls out of Sterling’s bag and everything changes. 

_“Makes Christ proud every day”_ that’s what Ellen had said. Now, on top of every awful thing April has known to be true about Sterling for years, she’s also having pre-marital sex. And (and April knows she shouldn’t focus on this), she’s not even _trying_ to hide the evidence. 

Blair and Jennings are finally dating, April notes, and she tries to get information out of him and wonders if he even remembers that they were all friends, once. 

She’s not even sure at first, that she’s going to do anything about the condom wrapper. She still has to attend school with the Wesleys, has to dance with Blair, has to be around them at church and at the club and she thinks maybe it’s enough that Sterling knows she has it. 

She absent-mindedly wonders if the threat of this exposure would extend to Blair, too, if she could use it to her advantage to guarantee the role of Odette. Would that even feel like a win, or would she rather just win against Blair because she deserves it? 

But then the twins approach her in Chastain Square, and maybe there really is a less-than-sinister reason they’re asking about her daddy, but something in her snaps and she takes her moment to solidify the threat. It’s out there now, no longer just in Sterling’s mind. April makes it very clear that she can, and will, expose Sterling’s poor choices. 

——————  


The next week is the first time April ever misses ballet. There’s a text on her phone from Miss Emily, saying that she hopes April is well, but the insincerity bursts out at April, even in written form. 

She knows that everybody has heard, everybody is talking about it. About him. About her. She takes three days off school and returns on the Thursday armed with lies and excuses. 

She didn’t know if she still had the energy to go ahead with the plan, but she walks in on Sterling Wesley fucking praying for her, and she snaps. She’s going to dedicate her time now to April Stevens 2.0. Everyone already thinks of her as a mean girl, she might as well earn it. 

She threatens Sterling, offers thinly veiled threats to Luke, and is almost shocked by how well the whole thing works. Not only is Sterling ostracized, but April finds herself more popular than ever and she decides that this is the person she was always supposed to be. 

She can check Fellowship Leader off the list. Next stop, Odette. 

April doesn’t even bother to lie when she walks in to the studio on Tuesday. Doesn’t actually say anything at all, or spare anyone a second glance. She stretches, she runs through her audition choreography a few times, and she confirms that she’ll be ready next week. 

April is heading out, walking over to meet Ezequiel and Hannah B at Chick-fil-A when she spots Sterling waiting in the car for Blair. She looks like maybe she’s crying, or least she has been. April looks away, definitely doesn’t spend the rest of her evening thinking about it. 

——————  


The weeks following just seem to get more and more bizarre. Sterling somehow regains popularity by straying further and further from God’s will, and April decides there’s nothing left to do but accept it. Home is hard, and her mental energy should probably be reserved for things other than hating Sterling. 

They audition, and then they audition again, and for a moment April considers just giving up any fight for the role. The real issue is that none of the secondary parts feel like they could give April a moment to shine, and she needs a success right now. 

She doesn’t get one. 

Blair is cast as Odette, April as the Prince’s Mother. 

Her own mother doesn’t ask about auditions. April’s not that selfish, she doesn’t expect her show to be high on anybody’s list of priorities right now, but she wants to share her disappointment with someone. Ezequiel and Hannah are the same as ever, and also completely different. Their relationship now is closer than ever to the perception people have, of leader and followers. They don’t really ask how she’s doing, and she knows they spend more time than usual hanging out without her. It’s not malicious, and she doesn’t begrudge them anything, but she wishes they’d remember to ask. 

It’s likely that the only people in April’s life who know about this are the Wesleys, who are undoubtedly thrilled. 

She stands tall and takes it in her stride, of course. Maybe it’s not the part she wanted, but it’s the part she was given. She’s made jokes over the years, about not crossing a ballerina because they’re all expertly skilled with a box cutter, but she knows that there really is no alternative solution to her casting disappointment. 

Last year she’d been relieved to not have to give up her entire weekend, week after week. This year she prays they’ll want her to rehearse more than she anticipates. It doesn’t really happen though, she’s not expected to put in as many hours as Blair, who seems constantly eager to be away from the studio and keeps turning up with excessive amounts of energy and occasionally, a strange new bruise that April overhears her blame on excessively aggressive lacrosse players. 

She pours her energy into Fellowship, into preparing for the upcoming Forensics tournament, into not throwing up when other members of the Young Republicans (indirectly) defend John’s behaviour, tell her that they’re thinking of him and “hoping the judge will see sense”. She quits the Straight-Straight Alliance and is relieved that they understand when she says she simply has too much going on right now, thankful she doesn’t have to explain that it makes her sick to be in a room with fifteen people whose words make them sound like they’ll grow up to be just like him. 

She removes the necklace John bought for her after Cinderella and replaces it with a cross that she buys for herself. 

——————  


Sterling and Luke break up. April isn’t sure why that feels good.

——————  


She has to be excused from class on Saturday, because she’s captain of the Forensics team now (and honestly, because Forensics is more important for her college applications, she knows that). She’s not thrilled about it, because next weekend is a holiday, so that makes almost ten hours of studio time that she’ll be missing and that she’ll have to make up in her own time. 

She needs this tournament to be a success, for a multitude of reasons. She needs to show that she’s capable of leading the team to victory, first of all. She also, on a more personal note, needs to feel like a winner. Coach stresses that she’s the first white female captain, so she leads with that when she’s trying to motivate the rest of her classmates. They’re not buying it, and she knows that, but she tries anyway. Failing a good pep talk, she can fall back on the dossiers. 

April feels a little uncomfortable putting together these dossiers, if she’s honest. Not because she cares about her opponents, but because she realizes just how easy it is to find out people’s biggest secrets. She wonders how hard she’s made it for anyone to find hers. She’s never spoken it aloud, never written it down or allowed it to exist anywhere outside of her brain. 

But maybe she’s let her eyes linger too long on another girl, or maybe her friendship with Ezequiel opens her up for suspicion. 

April spends so long wondering if someone will bring up _that_ secret that she forgets to prepare herself for the obvious ammunition. 

She never really planned to have this out with Sterling, thought she was long past the point of needing to have this conversation. Maybe the last few weeks have flipped a switch. But Sterling stands in front of her, like she’s better than April, like she’d never hurt another person, and April can’t stop the way she spits it out. 

Sterling doesn’t remember. April believes her when she says that. It makes it worse, somehow. Sterling doesn’t remember breaking April’s heart into a thousand pieces, and then she won’t even just help April win today. She doesn’t care about defending April, which is expected, but she isn’t even willing to help the school win. 

And April is so, so angry with her. She’s so angry, in fact, that she’s definitely been yelling for a moment before she realizes her hand is gripped tightly around Sterling’s arm, and she panics. The last thing she wants is to be a person who responds with violence, especially now. 

She leaves Sterling standing there, wide-eyed, doesn’t say another word. The rest of the dancers will still be in class for another two hours, and April is sitting in the parking lot before she realizes she doesn’t have any of her things, and there’s absolutely no use her going in there. She knows that Blair wasn’t scheduled in for rehearsal today, and she absent-mindedly wonders why she wasn’t at the tournament supporting her sister. 

She doesn’t even see her mother at home, but she’s thankful for that. Her whole body is tense with something she can only assume is rage, and she initially heads down to the gym in their basement to run, or punch something, but her eyes drift over to the barre and mirrors in the corner, and she knows it’s probably the best way to release whatever she’s holding in her shoulders. 

Ezequiel made her a playlist, when she was rehearsing for Cinderella. It’s all songs about dance, or dancing, or that simply have ‘dance’ in the title. A loose theme, admittedly. He named it ‘tiny dancer’ and she rolled her eyes, but it’s been two years and she still hasn’t made him change it. He still adds to it, even though they’ve never talked about it. She presses play and lets herself move and scream and cry in a way she never has before. 

——————  


The trial is due to start at the end of the week, and April barely speaks to anyone. She focuses on nothing but her own routine in the studio, takes a few days away from school and makes no effort to communicate with anybody even when she does attend. Ezequiel and Hannah understand, as does Ellen, so April doesn’t care about anybody else. She forces herself in to class on Friday, unwilling to sit in an empty house all day waiting, but equally unwilling to be anywhere near the courthouse. 

She’s been thinking, this week, about Sterling’s idea that healing their relationship is bigger than a win. Maybe it’s that, maybe she’s tired, or maybe it’s purely because there are no other viable options that would get her anything better than a B, but she doesn’t fight Sterling when she suggests partnering up. 

It’s not completely horrible, and for a moment she’s overwhelmed by the way her mind summons so many fond memories of her friendship with Sterling. 

She goes home after that first day, surprisingly relaxed and extremely pleased with the hours she puts into rehearsal that evening. 

The whole weekend is successful, in a way. Their work is impeccable, and April knows they’ll get an A. Sterling manages to throw her into total chaos when she starts stumbling over Naomi and Ruth, and April can’t be sure exactly why Sterling is pushing so hard to talk about homosexuality in the Bible, but there’s nothing about her tone that seems threatening or even suspicious, so she throws caution to the wind and decides that maybe it’s not worth worrying about? Maybe Sterling is just weird. Sterling is a little odd sometimes, there’s no denying that, and April doesn’t completely decide to ignore her ramblings, but she doesn’t put much weight on them. With everything that’s happened between them, April is sure that if Sterling knew anything, she’d make sure April knew about it. 

Ezequiel has added to her tiny dancer playlist, seemingly realizing that she’ll be allowed to listen to Taylor Swift again, now that her father is out of the house. (She’d been surprised that John even had the pop culture awareness to ban Taylor’s music from the house, but apparently declaring yourself pro-LGBTQ+ rights and anti-Trump is something that even John Stevens is going to hear about.) April hits play, and she’s in there for less than an hour overall but she feels great by the end of it. 

Maybe this could be better than a win. 

——————  


Sterling kisses her. Sterling kisses her and everything clicks into place, so April kisses her back. And it feels electric, it feels like when her face used to hurt from smiling, like hearing “you’re the best friend I’ve ever had”, like dancing Step Sisters, like getting their A+, all at once. She kisses her back and something in her brain tells her to make it last, so she does. For as long as she can. And when she pulls back, Sterling is just staring at her, smiling, and April panics. 

“Ballet.”

“What?”

“I, um. I have to leave. I’m going to be late for my ballet class.”

“Oh, okay?” 

“Yeah. I’m. I have to leave.”

She manages to not be late, although she doesn’t even remember the drive over there. It’s been easy, lately, to avoid Blair in the studio, but she feels stifled by Blair’s presence right now. Like somehow Blair will know, already. As though the twins are so intensely connected that Blair will be able to tell what just happened. 

The tension leaves her body when the music starts, and her brain decides to save all the stress and anxiety for later, and just lets her enjoy this feeling, because she’s not sure when she’ll ever have it again. 

——————  


She doesn’t touch the barre or Ezequiel’s playlist over the next few days. It’s the furthest thing from her mind, truly, because she’s spending her time kissing Sterling, and flirting and riding a high that she never expected to get while she was still in high school. 

She knows, really, that it can’t last. Not when Sterling is immediately ready to tell the world a secret that April has been keeping for half her life. She keeps letting herself be drawn back in, because she still wants what she can’t have. 

Sterling wonders aloud if there’s always been something between them, and April doesn’t need to think twice to realize she’s always been at least a little bit, well not in love with Sterling, but Sterling’s always taken up a lot of the space in her brain. Maybe she hasn’t always been completely aware of, or completely willing to admit, what that means. But Sterling has always been there. April wonders if maybe she always will be, even after this inevitably goes down in flames. 

——————  


She doesn’t want to go into the studio that Saturday. She’s exhausted, frankly. 

Somehow everything blew up even quicker than April expected. Somehow it’s possible for him to just walk back into her life, into her home, like nothing has changed, when April is a completely different person than she was when he left. 

She considers it, just telling Sterling that he’s back and that if they’re going to be together, it will have to be in secret. But she remembers how easily she’d given in just because the idea of sleeping next to Sterling made her feel warm all over. There’s no way she’d get through that conversation, and she knows that self-destruction is the only way. 

So she spends half of the lock-in hiding in the bathroom crying, and the other half lying awake in her sleeping bag, eyes closed so that nobody will bother her. Luke is weirdly happy when he comes back in from his conversation with Sterling (which, yes, April pushed, but only because she could imagine Sterling just sitting there on the bench and she needed to know she wasn’t completely alone) but it fades after what seems to be two hours of unanswered texts. 

A small, terrible part of April wants to try, see if Sterling would reply to her when she won’t reply to Luke. 

She would skip ballet and apologize profusely next week if not for the fact that he’s in the house. She can’t go home and face him, she’s sure that the heartbreak is written all over her face and she can’t bear the questioning. 

She changes before she leaves, obviously unwilling to arrive at the studio in her pyjamas, and spends twenty-five minutes in her car taking deep breaths and preparing herself to see Blair (she parks outside the Publix, rather than the studio, hoping that nobody will spot her there). 

It occurs to her that they haven’t actually seen each other since Blair found out. And now there isn’t anything to know, really. She wonders what’s going to happen, when they see each other. If Blair is going to keep her usual steely silence, or if she’s going to be angry on Sterling’s behalf. She thinks again about just pulling out right now, maybe just driving around for a few hours before she goes home. Then again, she’s had a grand total of around one hour’s worth of sleep, and driving around town for the next four hours seems like a horrible idea. 

She glances at her phone, checking how long she has before she needs to head in. She ignores the texts from Ezequiel, Hannah B and Luke, not sure she has the energy to read whatever they have to say after having just spent hours with them. 

Blair is late. She’s really late, doesn’t walk in until half an hour into the session, and she offers no apologies. She looks exhausted, as though she hasn’t slept at all, but unlike April she hasn’t even tried to hide it. Like maybe she’s been crying, too? April’s only seen Blair cry twice in the years she’s known her, but she’d be willing to bet that’s what’s happened. 

April moves in a way she’s never moved before. It’s better than Cinderella, better than just a few days ago when she was running on the adrenaline of her first kiss with a girl, with Sterling. She doesn’t know if it’s the pain from losing her (although she’s not sure she even has the right to call it that. She ended something that, by rights, had barely even started) or if it’s the rage that’s overtaken April since she saw her father’s face yesterday, but whatever it is, it works. 

It would be even more cathartic, probably, if not for Blair’s presence. If she didn’t have to have to spend her ten minute breaks trying pointedly not to look at Blair, if she didn’t have to wonder how much Blair knew and how angry Blair was and what on Earth happened to make Blair cry and look completely devastated. 

She packed her dance bag yesterday afternoon, so she sips water and eats her banana and doesn’t think about the events of the last twenty-four hours, doesn’t think about the look on Sterling’s face when she left her there alone. Doesn’t think about what she suspects happened when Luke went outside. Tries to keep her mind totally, completely blank. It almost works. 

It’s in her last break, when April finally gives in and chugs the Gatorade she packed in case she really started to crash in the afternoon, when she finally feels Blair’s eyes on her. Blair holds eye contact for a few painful seconds before grabbing her phone, typing something and putting it back in her bag. She stares at April again, for just a beat, before she puts her water bottle down and moves back to Louis, who’s playing Rothbart. 

She contemplates just not checking her own phone at all. She could just not read whatever Blair just sent, she could leave as soon as rehearsal is over, get in her car, go home and finally get some sleep. 

And if it was just Blair, she would. She’d be willing to wait until tomorrow to find out why Blair Wesley was crying. But it’s Sterling, and she can’t wait a single second for Sterling. 

**_Blair Wesley_ **  
_your car after rehearsal_

It doesn’t leave space for discussion, which she’d anticipated from the way Blair is carrying herself today, but it still fills her with dread. 

She’s not completely self-centred, she knows that something has happened beyond her and Sterling. Blair wasn’t at the lock-in, so maybe something else happened between her and Miles? Maybe she still blames April for her own break up, and now she’s mad because there isn’t even anything to show for it. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

She still has a minute, so she opens the messages she’d ignored earlier, and they all have one common theme: Sterling. 

They’re hazy, and nobody seems to know details. If Blair wasn’t across the room looking the way she does, April would assume it was nothing more than gossip. Something happened to Sterling, that’s all she can tell. Something happened to Sterling and Ezequiel is trying to find out details, Hannah B wants to ask who saw her last, Luke is there to remind her that it wasn’t her. 

Her only source of comfort right now is that Sterling must be safe, and physically okay. Blair would never leave her twin’s side otherwise. 

She slides her phone back into her bag.

——————  


April doesn’t linger, doesn’t take any real time to get changed, just throws on a sweater and changes her shoes before heading to her car. Blair is still finishing up inside, so April just… waits. 

And waits. And it’s probably no more than ten minutes but April’s skin is itching. She hasn’t replied to any of the messages from earlier, and there’s twenty notifications in the Holy Trinity group chat that she can’t bring herself to look at. There’s a message from her father, suggesting they can order takeout tonight (April’s choice), and another message from Luke that is desperately trying to be casual as he asks, yet again, if April has seen Blair today and has she said anything about Sterling and could April please let him know if she hears anything thanks. 

The passenger side of her car opens, and Blair slumps into the seat. April is expecting something, anything other than a minute of silence, but Blair just stares blankly at the centre console while April tries not to drum her fingers on the steering wheel. 

“You’re not allowed to say anything until I’m done.” 

April isn’t sure if that condition has already started, so she just nods. 

“I know that something bad happened with you and Sterl last night. But something worse happened after, so I think you need to talk to her. Because-”

Blair takes a deep, deep breath, and April is worried that they might both cry. 

“-because it’s not my thing to tell you, I don’t know what she wants you or anyone else to know. But something really, really shitty and terrifying and _shitty_ happened to Sterl, and I think it’s too weird for her to talk anyone in the house and. Look, she was crying and I asked her if she wanted me to call you and then she started crying even harder and said you broke up with her. And usually I would be ready to hurt you for that, but I don’t have the energy today. So, you need to talk to her. Or at least, like, be an option.”

She doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m done, now, Stevens. You can talk.”

“Should I just text her or-?”

“Her phone’s broken.”

“Okay, so how do I talk to her?”

“Do you want to talk to her?”

The idea of being vulnerable in front of Blair Wesley would usually make her sick, but she gets the feeling that if there was ever a day to do it, it’s today.

“More than anything.” 

“Then we’ll figure it out.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday loops around and somehow it’s been a week since the lock-in, a week since something happened to Sterling, and April can’t sleep. She hasn’t slept much since she left Sterling on that bench, if she’s honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here she goes! the final chapter. thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for indulging me. 
> 
> some stepril, some ballet, whole heap of nonsense.

It’s difficult at first, with Sterling. And not just logistically, although they do have to spend a few days using Blair as a messenger. Thankfully, the Wesley family is just as Apple-dependent as her own, so April simply has to tell Blair that if Sterling wants to talk, April is free, and Sterling can iMessage or FaceTime on her laptop without having to commandeer Blair’s phone for an extended period. 

It's also difficult because Sterling claims she doesn’t want to talk to April at all. Sunday night, she doesn’t say a word, but keeps FaceTime open until she falls asleep. The next day, Blair texts to say it’s the first time Sterling has slept since… whatever happened. It’s a positive, April thinks. 

As is the fact that Sterling tells her when she gets a new phone. It’s Wednesday, and both twins are in school now (Sterling, to everyone’s surprise, had been in bright and early on Monday morning while Blair had been the one to stay home.) 

She still doesn’t know what happened, not really. She knows that Sterling was in danger, she knows that she won’t open up to anyone about it, says she’s not ready. 

Friday loops around and somehow it’s been a week since the lock-in, a week since something happened to Sterling, and April can’t sleep. She hasn’t slept much since she left Sterling on that bench, if she’s honest, and she’s not sure when exhaustion will finally catch up with her. She’s contemplating whether or not she needs to pack an energy drink that will help her power through tomorrow’s rehearsal when her phone lights up on the other side of the room. 

**_Sterling Wesley_ **  
_are you awake?_

It’s only eleven, and April was definitely going to try and head to bed soon, but it would seem that she’s still powerless against Sterling. 

**_April_ **  
_I am. Are you okay?_

She tries not to cringe too hard at her own words. Of course Sterling isn’t okay. 

**_Sterling Wesley_ **  
_nope_  
_can I call you?_  
_idk I don’t want to type any of this_  
_cool if not, dw_

**_April_ **  
_Of course._  
_I’m ready whenever you are._

——————  


Blair has been skipping school intermittently, and April surprises even herself when she decides it’s her responsibility to pass on any crucial assignments or information she may have missed. She doesn’t even scold Blair or remind her how irresponsible and stupid it is to miss whole days of classes. (Truthfully, she assumes that Sterling is probably making her feelings known, and thinks that maybe Mrs Wesley is aware of Blair’s truancy anyway, Willingham are not shy about calling parents over absences.) 

Tuesdays and Saturdays, she hands Blair small stacks of worksheets, some of April’s own notes, and occasionally a reading list, that is better and more organized than the ones their teachers hand out anyway. 

A few weeks after the lock in, after Sterling, after everything, Blair texts to ask if they can get coffee after rehearsal this Saturday. She needs some clarification of something in April’s notes, is the official reason, but they both know it’s more than that. 

April knows now, she thinks she knows everything (she hopes she knows everything, because she’s certain neither her heart nor her mind could handle anything more), and she doesn’t feel like Blair wants to talk about that, but she can’t be sure. 

They go to their cars, separately, as though anyone in their studio would even care that they were spending time together, and drive to the second closest Starbucks. It’s the one near the Atlanta History Centre, and April wonders if Blair remembers the field trip they took when they were in fifth grade. It was somewhere around the middle of her friendship with Sterling, and Blair had complained all day because Sterling had dared to even consider sitting next to April on the bus. April ended up next to Hannah S. 

Maybe it’s not the right time to discuss that particular memory, actually. 

She watches the barista pump syrup after syrup into whatever Blair ordered, and rolls her eyes when Blair has the audacity to call her iced oat latte (half-caf, because she’s anxious enough already) disgusting. 

April has never been patient, not really. She doesn’t like to sit in silence and she hates the nervous energy that buzzes around their table, but she knows better than to push Blair. A few weeks ago, sitting in her car, waiting for Blair to talk to her, April felt like her heart was going to drop out of her stomach (truthfully, that was also her overwhelming ‘something bad happened to Sterling and I need to know what and if I’m to blame’ anxiety) but this feels different. Blair is choosing this, choosing to talk to April, rather than needing to, and it gives April a brief flash of hope that one day, maybe, their relationship could be less strained. 

“Do you remember that trip to the History Centre?”

Apparently Blair thinks it is the right time, after all. 

“I do.”

“I was so mad that Sterling wanted to sit next to you.”

“I remember.” Blair just stares at a cup that is basically filled with whipped cream and sugar. “She still sat with you in the end, though.” Chose you, April thinks, even though she’d never say something so selfish aloud (at least, not now.)

“Yeah but she was angry with me. She like, didn’t speak to me at all that night. We got home and had dinner in silence. I think it was the longest Sterl’s ever gone without talking to me until-” Until the night of the lock-in. 

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“She was super pissed that I wasn’t making an effort. She was all “April’s our friend now, you have to be nice to her, I really like her” and I was... I don’t know, I didn’t see why she needed another friend. I was scared she’d start liking you more than she likes me.”

“Blair-”

“No I just. I don’t want you to like, tell me Sterl loves me. I know that. I’m trying to say sorry, for back then.”

“Well, thank you. But it’s not necessary, Blair. You were a kid, and you were scared of losing your favourite person. I get it.” 

“We both fucked up, Stevens. I was shitty but so were you.”

It hits her, hard, and it she takes a deep breath to compose herself because getting angry will not help whatever progress they’re making right now. 

“Blair, what I’m about to say is not an attempt to be argumentative, I promise. Clearly, I hurt you, and I” another deep breath, and the way it shudders shocks even April, “I am not sure what I did to you, but I’d like it if you felt able to tell me? And I’d like to talk about it.”

April remembers Sterling, the way she said “I want to talk about it” at the debate tournament. She remembers her own desperate need to leave the conversation there, and tries to remember that it’s okay if Blair doesn’t want to talk about this. 

——————  


Things change. They change between April and Blair, between April and Sterling, between April and literally every other human in her life, if she analysed it too carefully. 

She’s settled into something with Sterling. Something that they don’t really talk about, maybe because they’re both fragile, maybe because talking about it puts pressure on it. They don’t spend time alone if they can avoid it, they don’t talk much at school, but they text and FaceTime almost constantly. It couldn’t be defined (and April has tried) because they’re friends and they’re helping each other through hard times, but April is also undoubtedly smitten, and Sterling says things that are just a little too soft, too heartfelt, to just be friendly. 

With Blair? Well, April and Blair cycle through their pattern of friendship again three times in as many weeks. They talk, at the Starbucks, over text, through Sterling, back at the Starbucks. At a different Starbucks. They tolerate each other, they hate each other, they pair up in the studio, they hate each other again. 

Blair tells April about Cinderella. About going in to her audition with her focus on April crying in the foyer outside. About slipping, and about telling Sterling the whole story. About, more than anything, being completely convinced for years that April sabotaged her. April knows this idea came from Sterling as much as it came from Blair. This idea, that April was so awful a person that she faked those tears, the pain, that pre-emptive mourning of her tentative relationship with Blair, in order to get inside Blair’s head before the audition, hurts so much that April doesn’t speak to either twin for three days. 

Sterling is the one to ask, this time, if April can hang out for a little while after rehearsal. 

They’re only a few weeks away from the show now, and April really doesn’t want her free time to be filled with endless tense conversations with the Wesleys. She wants to be rehearsing at home, she wants to be out with Ezequiel and Hannah (wants to be sleeping at Hannah’s house as many weekends as possible, still avoiding any conversation with her father.) 

If she’s going to be spending time with Sterling or Blair, she’d rather it was anything other than dragging up the years of pain they’ve caused each other. 

——————  


**_Sterling Wesley_ **  
_hey_  
_just checking you’re okay after today?_  
_that like, we’re okay?_

**_April_ **  
_we’re okay._  
_I’m tired of us hurting each other_  
_can we stop?_

**_Sterling Wesley_ **  
_SO down for a world where we don’t hurt each other_  
_so yes please_

**_April_ **  
_good_  
_goodnight, Sterling :)_

  
**_Sterling Wesley_ **  
_goodnight, April_

——————  


She’d forgotten how nice it could be, both of them rehearsing in the same space, but without the feeling of Blair’s eyes boring into her skull. 

They’re just over a week away from the show, and Blair’s performance is going to be outstanding. April has taken to hanging around after her own rehearsal is over, to watch Blair move around the room with an ease that April would’ve envied just a few months ago. Now, she’s simply moved, and maybe even a little proud of how far Blair has come. (If hanging around until Blair leaves also has the advantage of seeing Sterling for a moment, April pretends she doesn’t notice, definitely isn’t in any way motivated by that.) 

It’s almost back to how it was before Cinderella, between the two of them. There’s still a tension, but it’s not as uncomfortable as it once was. Blair asks April for help with her breathing exercises, with her posture, with the best ways to rehearse just enough without burning out. April lets Blair send her memes and sad videos and “anything to help balance your emotions, you weirdo”. According to Blair, April needs to be emotional but not too emotional, and April has no idea what that means but Blair seems to think it’s working, so that’s what matters. 

It’s fun, nearly. They still don’t really talk at school, but April doesn’t have the energy to be actively mean to them anymore, and her lack of enthusiasm eventually rubs off on Ezequiel, who turns his attention to obsessively finding out what exactly is happening between Franklin and Lorna, and to watching Luke like a hawk any time he’s near Sterling. That, April could do without, but she reminds him that it’s none of their business and is silently overjoyed when Hannah points out that Sterling doesn’t really seem interested anyway. 

Luke is sweet, and they come to a mutual agreement that their brief flirtation was actually just kind of weird, but they could maybe be friends. It’s likely nothing much will come of it, especially not while April has to hide the ‘I think we’re kind of in love with the same girl’ bomb from him, but it feels nice anyway. 

Because she probably is. In love with Sterling. As much as her brain tells her that that’s illogical, she looks back throughout the years and she looks at now and she thinks about the disgusting romance-novel way her heart flutters when she sees Sterling’s face and she knows that it’s the truth. It’s unfortunate, because it seems unlikely it, they, will ever be anything. But it’s true, and April realizes that the best thing she can do now is just accept it. 

Frankly, April has a tight schedule for the next ten days and she doesn’t have time to worry about being in love with Sterling Wesley. 

She has time for her own rehearsals, to help Blair set up a more organized schedule for herself that fits in school, lacrosse, ballet and the yogurt shop (and absolutely not that other thing, thank you, because April will be deeply unimpressed if Blair has even a single tiny bruise for their week of shows.) 

She has time to text Blair subtle ‘sit up straight’ messages during lunch and watch her deliberately slouch down for a second before taking note, to still FaceTime with Sterling most nights, as long as the conversation never strays to anything too deep, too intense, to politely ask Ezequiel if he could make a few additions to the playlist and please not question them. 

She’ll think about everything else later. 

——————  


“Sterling has an annoying request. Well, demand.”

April is smoothing her hair down, and has to try very hard not to roll her eyes when she sees that Blair is not even close to being ready for their dress rehearsal. 

“Can this demand wait?”

Blair just stares at her and okay, no words need to be exchanged for that point to be made. April isn’t going to make Sterling wait. 

“She wants proof that we haven’t killed each other.”

“I’m pretty certain that Sterling has spoken to us both within the last fifteen minutes, she knows we haven’t killed each other.”

“Stevens, I’m reading it word for word.”

She shoves the phone at April and sure enough, it’s there. 

_**Sterl** _  
_awww_  
_lemme see how cute you look!_  
_wait no!!!!_  
_selfie with April. make it happen_  
_for science_  
_for proof you haven’t killed each other_  
_cause you love me_

**_Blair_ **  
_noooooo I don’t wanna_  
_she’ll never agree to that_  
_she’ll look at me with that face she does_

**_Sterl_ **  
_you gotta do it_  
_for me_

“That _face_ I do?”

“Yeah you’re literally doing it right now. It’s like, judgy? But like you’re kind of impressed that I’ve even lived this long?”

“That makes sense.” If this had been last year, or even a few months ago, there would’ve been some bite to it, but now Blair just nudges her shoulder and tells her to shut up, and the way that it’s comfortable and familiar is disarming in the best of ways. 

They take a picture (they actually take about six, and April has to remind Blair that they do in fact have a deadline right now) and Sterling’s first response is just a string of heart-eyed emojis. Followed by more heart-eyed emojis, and a text that reads “my two favorite faces!!!!!” with even more hearts. April’s own phone lights up a moment later, with yet more hearts from Sterling (and a follow-up that just says “thanks for indulging me”) and Blair just laughs and tells April she’s gone bright red before April shushes her and insists that she’s going to be responsible for Blair’s hair tonight.

——————  


It’s forty-five minutes before curtain up, and Blair bursts back in to the dressing room having somehow completely messed up the bun April painstakingly smoothed down and hairsprayed just half an hour ago. She’s about to chastise her when she notices the card in her hand with Sterling’s handwriting on it. Clearly, she’d stepped out to see her sister. 

“Hey. You have to go out back now.”

“What?”

“Sterl wants to see you. But she has to leave in like 10, so you have to go now.”

Sterling looks beautiful, and it takes April a moment to remember that she’s not thinking about that right now. This time next week she can start dedicating brain space to that again, but not now. (That doesn’t stop her from admiring the way Sterling’s collarbone peeks through at her from under the neckline of her dress.) 

It’s another beat before she realizes that Sterling is holding flowers, flowers that logically could only be for her? 

“Is this okay? I just wanted to see you before. Say break a leg or whatever.”

It’s overwhelming, so April just nods. 

“I didn’t write a card or anything, so you can still take them home and he, um, he doesn’t need to know who they’re from. Most of them are just plain yellow, and I don’t know, he doesn’t really strike me as the kind of guy to know much about the meanings of flowers anyway.”

The roses that aren’t plain yellow, April notices, have red-tipped petals. And Sterling has just looked her in the eye and boldly said she made this choice, that she knows exactly what that means. April does too. She can’t do anything but smile. 

“No, I don’t think he’ll know.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.” 

Sterling holds the bouquet out for her to take, and April has a brief memory of a child awkwardly accepting half an orange. She wonders what little April would think now, about everything. She hopes she’d be pleased. 

Pleased that when she looks up, Sterling is beaming at her and that nervous girl who offered her a snack and a friend is now offering her _this._

Sterling’s phone pings and she doesn’t even glance at it, just tells April she has to leave and April has to go and finish getting ready. 

And no, she’s not supposed to be thinking about this right now, but April still leans forward to kiss Sterling’s cheek. Her boldness earns her a smile so bright that she can’t believe she wasted so much of her life not doing this. 

“Really, Sterling. Thank you.” 

“You’re going to kill it.”

She does. She’s great. But Blair? Blair is phenomenal. They both know April’s father is waiting outside, so April hugs her tight backstage and tells her how great she was and Blair acts like she doesn’t care at all, but she squeezes back just as hard.

It’s almost deja vu, when April steps out. Hannah and Ezequiel hug her, her parents linger behind, not saying much at all (April knows that there’s a small blue box with her name on it on the dining room table.) The Wesleys fuss over Blair across the room, but April doesn’t feel any bitterness this time. 

Sterling catches her eye and smiles. 

It’s almost deja vu, but it’s so much better. 

——————  


April finally quits ballet. Not in any grand, spectacular way, she simply informs them she won’t be returning to the studio, and sends a thank you card to Miss Emily. It feels somewhat anticlimactic, considering she spent nearly ten years of her life there, but she’s happy to let it go.

She still dances, still uses her home studio and never removes the mini barre from her bedroom mirror. But she doesn’t audition or rehearse, doesn’t train until her body aches, doesn’t worry about her food intake in performance week. 

It’s a relief. She doesn’t feel like she would even have the time anymore, between Fellowship and Forensics and Latin and _Sterling_. (Sterling refers to herself as April’s favourite extra-curricular and April only pretends to hate it.) 

John Stevens is arrested again. Also a relief. 

It’s complicated, and causes more than a few arguments between herself and the Wesleys, even if they weren’t involved this time. But there are just so many charges this time, and a truly disgusting variety of them and she’s angry, and she’s sad. It’s complicated and it’s also not, because Sterling reminds her that every feeling she has is valid, and that she doesn’t have to hide any of them. 

She finally quits ballet, but ‘tiny dancer’ stays in her Spotify rotation, and she still takes time every few weeks to make sure her pointe shoes stay broken in. 

——————

The show is The Nutcracker this year, and April and Sterling wait at Chick-fil-A while Blair auditions. She’s going to get Clara, there’s no way she won’t. It wouldn’t make any logical sense to give this part to anyone else, even putting aside April’s slight bias. Blair is the best dancer they have, by a significant margin now that April is gone, and everyone knows it’s going to be her last year at the studio. Blair is anxious anyway, and an anxious Blair usually leads to an anxious Sterling. 

The weeks leading up to the audition, April spends a few hours on Thursday afternoons with Blair, helping her rehearse. She’ll admit to having been surprised when Blair asked, but she’s happy to help any way she can. It’s actually a lot of fun, and Blair is much more relaxed when it’s just the two of them. 

They wait for Blair and Sterling checks her phone every fifteen seconds until eventually, April has to grab Sterling’s hand across the table to make her stop. It’s fleeting, because this is still mostly a secret, but it makes Sterling pause and seems to soothe something in her. 

“Sorry. She’s just so nervous.”

“I know, Sterl. But she’s going to be fine, I promise.”

And she is. Blair obviously gets Clara, and she doesn’t even ask if April will continue rehearsing with her, just says “see you Thursday” before April could disagree even if she wanted to. (She wouldn’t.) 

——————  


Blair still has class every Tuesday, and April and Blair are in a pretty good place now, but it doesn’t change the fact that Tuesday is her favourite day of the week. She gets four uninterrupted hours of Sterling, and that’s better than ballet ever was. 

——————  


“You have to come to our house for dinner tomorrow.”

The show is three weeks away, and Blair is impeccable. April feels confident that this is going to be Blair’s best ever performance, and she’s excited to get to just… watch it, this year. It surprises her, that she feels no envy or malice when it comes to Blair’s success, but she really is just genuinely thrilled to watch Blair knock this one out of the park. 

She helps Blair out once a week, and she and Sterling have been doing this thing they’re doing for almost a year, but the Wesleys still don’t know they’re together, so this formal invitation to dinner is a little unusual. Even more so because it’s coming from Blair. 

“Dinner?”

“You know, the meal people eat in the evening.” April knows how to stare Blair down by now, considers it an art she has perfected. 

“Why do I have to come to your house for dinner?”

“Mom wants you to.”

“Okay… and why does she want me to? Why are you telling me this, not Sterl?”

“She was going to ask you when she picked me up, but she’s being weird about it so I did it instead.”

“That only answers one of my questions, Blair.”

“I don’t know, we were eating last night and she just said ‘girls, I think we should invite April over for dinner tomorrow night, ‘kay?’ and Sterl panicked and she thought you might panic too so I thought I’d be the one to tell you.”

“Sterling was right.” Blair looks sheepish for a moment, like maybe she should’ve let her sister handle this. “Your impression of your mother is good, by the way. I feel like you’ve been practising.”

“I have!” 

The doorbell rings before April can start spiralling, and she hears the front door open before she’s even registered Blair’s exit from the room. 

“I told April she’s coming over tomorrow so I think you should go like, calm her down. I’ll be in the car.” It’s mumbled, but Blair is loud, so it still travels. “Bye Stevens!” 

She’s nervous, but maybe she doesn’t need to be? At least, Sterling spends a few minutes planting kisses all over her face until she laughs and she thinks that no matter what happens, she still has this. She repeats it over and over for the next twenty four hours. It’s not her most creative mantra, but it helps. 

——————  


One week before the show, Blair becomes exhausting. April has to ask Ezequiel if she can share their playlist with Blair, but he insists on making something completely new that he claims will be perfect for her. 

It’s funny, how seamlessly the twins and the Holy Trinity blend together. They eat lunch together most days, they spend time in all kinds of unexpected combinations (Ezequiel and Blair get along in a way that sometimes makes April nervous, which Sterling finds hilarious at first, until she starts to agree that it’s unsettling). Not to mention the way that April and Sterling’s relationship is a happily accepted open secret in their group, even if not beyond. 

Because they’ve never confirmed anything, and Ezequiel and Hannah B have never felt it necessary to ask, but they don’t even blink when Sterling and April hold hands outside of school, and they never suggest hanging out on Tuesday evenings anymore, since Sterling declared it her ‘April time’. She only accidentally calls it date night once, and April thinks Ezequiel laughs, but it’s affectionate, so she doesn’t worry about it. 

It’s similar with Sterling’s parents, weirdly. Dinner, as it turned out, was simply their way of thanking April for her help with Blair. Officially, at least, but it was also the first night that Debbie told them to leave space on the couch, and shouted “door open please, girls” when they went upstairs to study in Sterling’s bedroom. 

Nobody says anything, but that also means that _nobody says anything_ and sometimes April is taken aback by the quiet, loving silence. Hearing nothing at all from her friends is a warm, wonderful kindness that she’ll be thankful for for the rest of her life. 

**_Blair Wesley_ **  
_yo Stevens_  
_quick question_  
_wait no 2 questions_  
_1\. what wanky name did Ez give your playlist?_

**_April_ **  
_Ezequiel named my playlist ‘tiny dancer’_

**_Blair Wesley_ **  
_…_  
_oh wait for real?_  
_k nvm I feel better about mine_

**_April_ **  
_Why, what did he name yours?_

_**Blair Wesley** _  
_2\. you free Friday?_  
_or like, Saturday_  
_or Sunday_  
_or… Monday?_

**_April_ **  
_In theory, I could be free any of those days?_  
_Why?_  
_Also what did he name yours???_

**_Blair Wesley_ **  
_"in theory?” dude you busy or not?_  
_wanna help me rehearse an extra day?_

**_April_ **  
_Of course!_  
_Just… it depends on Sterling I suppose?_  
_Let her choose._

**_Blair Wesley_ **  
_gross_  
_see you Monday, then_

**_April_ **  
_You’ll also see me tomorrow and probably every day until then._  
_But sure, Monday.  
What did he name yours?_  
_Blair?_

——————  


She ends up with tickets for six out of the seven shows, which she should’ve known to expect. Sterling has always attended every performance, even without her parents (or Luke, back when Luke was around.) 

She’ll probably end up attending the seventh, too. She knows that. She has no objections. 

Ezequiel and Hannah have tickets for half of them, too, and it’s surprisingly nice to know that everyone will be there for Blair on opening night. She’s heard Luke is going, too, and she knows he bought two tickets but she’s not sure who the second is for. 

The plan, April initially thinks, is to meet the Wesleys at the theatre, watch the show, and then go home. She sees no reason, really, that the plan would be any different. 

But she drops Blair home on Thursday after their final rehearsal, and Mr. Wesley tells her to be ready by six-thirty tomorrow, and to tell her mom she’ll be home late. April’s mother is welcome to call the Wesley home if she needs to double-check, but he expects to drop her home some time after eleven. 

She just nods, says goodbye to both him and Blair, and drives home. Sterling FaceTimes her the second she closes her bedroom door. 

“Okay so I realize I forgot to ask.”

“Ask….?”

“I guess I just assumed you would and so I like, forgot. Don’t be mad, you’re so pretty, have I told you today how pretty you are?”

(Sterling has, in fact, told April how pretty she is today.) 

“Sterl. Remember the talk we had about breathing?”

“Yeah, it’s good right? You said it was recommended by most doctors?”

“Yeah I think it’s nine out of ten at this point.”

God, Sterling is so stunning when she smiles at April like that. Like April is the greatest thing she’s ever seen, like she’s said the best or smartest or funniest thing Sterling has ever heard. 

“We have this tradition. Every time Blair has an opening night, we go together as a family and then we go for dinner at Aria, because Blair loves it. Mom and Dad asked if you were coming with us and Blair said yes, well actually she rolled her eyes and said “duh” and I guess I just… forgot to check?”

April is silent. 

“Okay I screwed up. I’m sorry. I’m sure my Dad will be able to change the reservation to four instead of five, it’s not a big deal.”

“Sterl.”

“And you can totally make your own way to the show and we’ll just meet like my Dad doesn’t have to drive-”

“Sterling.”

Sterling stops. 

“It’s okay. It’s… it’s more than okay. I guess I’m just surprised? I can’t believe you would all want me there? It’s a family tradition, Sterling.”

“Right.”

“I’m not family.”

“I dare you to come to this house and say that. Pretty sure even Chloe would fight you.”

April thinks of her own family, of the way that her successes lead to expensive gifts she doesn’t really like that much, and bragging rights for her parents, but never to loving embraces or real expressions of pride. She knows that she’s privileged and she think that it’s maybe selfish or spoiled of her, but she feels so angry that her parents were unwilling (or perhaps unable) to show her love the way she sees other families do. She’s thankful to know them, but sometimes she simply can’t comprehend the way the Wesleys are able to show love and casual affection to their daughters, and the way that they’ve extended this to April herself. 

Because when Mrs Wesley first found out April was helping Blair with rehearsal, she hugged her to say thank you. She calls her ‘hun’ and Mr Wesley calls her ‘kiddo’ when he sees her, and she’s very often grouped into ‘the girls’ these days (or, once, ‘ _our_ girls’) and now they’re inviting her in to something this special, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“April?”

“Sorry, just thinking. I’m pretty sure I could take Chloe in a fight, if it came down to it.”

“Oh please, you’re immune to Chloe’s charm.”

“Right. _Chloe_ is the one I can never say no to.” 

——————  


She’s supposed to be ready by six-thirty, so naturally she’s ready an hour earlier than that. She tells her mother what Mr Wesley said, that he’ll drop her home later, and it’s not that she’s disinterested, she just doesn’t even seem to register it at all. 

She climbs into the back of Mr Wesley’s truck, and Sterling whispers that April looks beautiful and she thinks about when her face used to hurt from smiling so much, thinks about how it was because she wasn’t used to it. Smiling feels like her default now. 

Sterling runs backstage to see Blair, when they arrive at the theatre, but April hangs back in the foyer even though she’s technically invited. It’s true, probably, when Sterling says that Blair would be happy to see her, but she knows well enough that some things are not to be intruded on, that sometimes they need to share moments alone. 

So April says hello to Ezequiel and Hannah, even to Luke and his date, exchanges pleasantries with her former dance teachers before they rush away to see the performers, but she’s mostly content to stay with Sterling’s parents.

Blair is incredible. April has only ever been part of these shows, she’s never been able to just sit back and watch one before, and she’s completely blown away by the way Blair moves, the way she transforms herself. She can see pieces of herself, of her own advice and help in the performance, in the way Blair is more precise and technical than ever before. She’d never say it to her, but Blair holds herself with more grace and elegance than the kid April was reluctantly impressed by all those years ago. 

She doesn’t even realise she’s crying until Sterling grabs her hand and joins it with her own, pulls them both up so that she can kiss April’s knuckle. Sterling is still staring at the stage, completely transfixed by her sister, but she seems to sense April’s need for comfort before April even knows she needs it. 

She doesn’t let go of April’s hand at all, even during the interval, and nobody seems to even care. 

April’s seen the Nutcracker so many times she’s lost count. She’s seen it nearly every year since her Swan Princess fascination, she’s seen film versions, she’s watched professional performances on YouTube. She knows the show inside out. She’s never before been affected like this. Maybe it’s the culmination of the last few months (years) of emotions, maybe it’s a twinge of sadness that she isn’t up there on stage, maybe it’s because it’s Blair. Whatever it is, it’s going to take a lot for any other production to be better than this. 

She’s been on the other side of the foyer so many times, watching this scene with a pain inside her that she could never truly identify, but tonight she’s here, in the midst of it. She’s there when Blair walks out and the whole family (April included) cheers for her. She watches Blair’s dad pick her up and twirl her around, the same way he’s done after every show. She’s pulled into the family hug, and she and Blair don’t immediately let go of each other after. 

She tells Blair how proud she is and she means it. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Stevens.” It seems like she means it. April thinks it’s probably not true, but she’s not about to tell Blair that. 

Sterling smiles at her, and April remembers being ten, being fourteen, being every age since she let Sterling Wesley into her heart the first time, and knows it was all building to this. 

**Author's Note:**

> yell with me on twitter: @aprilphtevens


End file.
